


Captain's Mast

by inlovewithnight



Category: Horatio Hornblower (tv), Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-10
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Captain's Mast

According to the woman seated beside him (who would have been well-suited for the Navy, gifted as she was with a voice that could likely be heard by an entire squadron in mid-battle), this was the social event of the season. Horatio had no reason to doubt her. At such an isolated port as this, any gathering hosted by the governor was likely to be cause for excitement, and one that included an entire half-dozen visitors from afar doubly so.

It had taken Mr. Bush several tries, due to the vague and oblique way he insisted on approaching the subject, to bring to Hornblower's attention that he himself was one of the visitors who would make the event worth attending, and so he, in fact, really ought to go. He thereby spoiled a full afternoon's efforts at coming up with polite reasons to give the governor for why he could _not_ attend, and Horatio did fully intend to get revenge on Bush at some point for that, one way or another.

He strongly disliked dinner parties. And this one was to include dancing after the meal, for an additional course of horror.

"Captain Hornblower! So very good of you to come." The governor clasped Horatio's shoulder, his a broad and beaming grin giving him an unsettling resemblance to a donkey.

"It's a lovely party," Horatio replied, looking slowly around the room. It was, in fact, an appalling party, but if ever a situation called for polite lies and dissembling, it was this one. "I'm honored to attend."

The governor's wife, a wan-looking girl at least a dozen years his junior and laced into an unflattering green gown that gave her the distinct appearance of scurvy, offered Horatio a smile. "You do know, Captain Hornblower, that you're not the only Captain here tonight?"

Horatio drew a breath to begin an explanation of the relative ranking systems of the Navy and the Army, as well as how one can be captain of a _ship_ without holding the _rank_ of Captain, a confusing but not at all inconsequential detail. He checked himself only because before he could begin, the governor was off and chattering again.

"Oh, Amelia, I'm sure Captain Hornblower has met all of the guests."

"I haven't, actually," Horatio replied after an awkward moment. "I arrived late."

"My word," the governor said, coughing slightly. "Terribly sorry about that. Well. Allow me to..."

"No, no." Horatio shook his head, gesturing quickly to cut the man off before he made an offer that the woman with the impressive voice, who was listening to every word quite eagerly, would be only too happy to take up. "It's quite all right. I'm happy to remain...unintroduced, really."

"It's entirely improper, Captain," Amelia said, producing a fan and waving it before her face with great agitation. "And you simply must meet Captain Swann."

Horatio blinked, quite certain he must have heard her incorrectly. "Captain who?"

"Amelia," the governor muttered, the uncomfortable donkey's smile in place again as he grabbed his wife's arm. "I'm sure Captain Hornblower will meet everyone of interest to him in his own time."

Horatio studied the governor for a long moment before speaking, checking himself to keep from assuming the tone he used when speaking to the more thickheaded of the midshipmen. "Governor, you are of course aware that playing host to such a notorious figure as Captain Elizabeth Swann would be a most serious offense."

"Well." The governor shifted his weight, glancing about the room. "I'm quite certain, Captain, that..."

"Captain Hornblower," Amelia said, a brilliant smile affixed to her lips as she looked at him. Horatio was somewhat startled by the abrupt change in her demeanor, but women were mysterious creatures in any case. "Surely you don't believe that we would host the _real_ Elizabeth Swann?"

Horatio frowned, considering this, but Amelia hurried on before he could reply.

"Would a pirate captain, a notorious figure as you said, really be so foolish as to walk into a party full of representatives of the Crown such as yourself? It would be walking into a lion's den! Anyone as silly as that would never have survived as long as Swann."

"Of course, my dear," the governor said, beaming widely and squeezing his wife's hand. "I'm terribly sorry if our little joke confused you for a moment, Captain Hornblower. The real Elizabeth Swann! Ha ha!"

Horatio's fingers tightened on the stem of his wineglass. He disliked being laughed at even more than the rest of the ridiculous nonsense associated with society functions. This was rapidly becoming the most unpleasant dinner party he had been forced to attend. "So your guest is...an actress, perhaps?"

"A local eccentric," Amelia said, still with that oddly exaggerated smile. "It amuses her to play such games, and harms no one, so we locals indulge her."

"Her family ought to perhaps see to finding her proper care," Horatio said, drinking the last of his wine and setting the glass away. "Excuse me for a moment."

He moved deliberately away from the quartet assembling their instruments, instead approaching one of the wide windows overlooking the bay. The sun was nearly below the horizon, but he was able easily to find his ship among the row of them lined up snugly to the piers. He rested his hand against the wall and imagined the sounds of the crew going about their evening tasks, the gentle roll of the deck underfoot, the rough shout of the lieutenant on duty. It was difficult to fathom how the gentlemen circling about the crowded room behind him could prefer such pursuits to the blend of order and freedom of a life at sea.

"I'm afraid you can't see mine from here."

He looked up to see a woman at the next window, also staring out toward the harbor. "Pardon?" he asked, glancing at her and then out to the sea again, unsettled by the fact that he had failed to note her approach. She had simply appeared, as silently as an enemy vessel emerging from the fog.

"My ship." She nodded at the row of vessels, growing less distinct in the fast-fading light. "We had to make anchor around the other side of the island and row in. Much too dangerous bring the beauty in among the beacons of law and order." She glanced at him and smiled. "You are Captain Hornblower, are you not?"

"Yes," he murmured, forgetting to offer his hand until she had already extended hers, her eyebrows lifted in distinct challenge as he brought it to his mouth. She was neither young nor particularly old, with middling-colored hair streaked with brighter patches and lines carved deeply around her eyes in a way that was familiar. Quite similar to what he saw in his shaving glass each morning, or across from him when he spoke to his men.

"The uniform was a rather significant clue," she said, laughing. "It's an honor to meet you, Captain. I have heard such stories."

"And you must be..."

"Elizabeth Swann." Her smile grew wider, and she glanced out the window again at the now-invisible harbor. "Going to all the trouble of hiding the ship and then going about introducing myself was probably a bit foolish. But what's life without a bit of risk?"

"...the eccentric girl," he finished, wishing for another drink, as much for something to do with his hands as for the alcohol. "The governor explained your...situation to me."

One of her eyebrows lifted again in a distinctly bemused arch. "Did he?"

"Yes." He shifted his weight and settled for folding his hands behind his back as he would onboard ship. He found the stance comforting. "My sympathies."

"Oh, mine as well. Absolutely."

He studied her for another moment, trying to make her fit with what he knew of ladies of station. Her dress was very different from the ones the other women wore; he made a cautious guess at _out of fashion_, but given his utter lack of familiarity with what the term might actually mean, he could not consider it a certainty. "Are you well, this evening?"

She turned from the window and folded her hands behind her back in a near-perfect imitation of his own pose. "Not as well as I would be aboard my ship."

He had read before that the mad would cling quite firmly to their roles, and sometimes it was best to indulge them to avoid creating a scene. "It is a fine night to be at sea."

"Clear skies and calm waters. If not for the pleasant company, I would think it a shame to be on shore." She looked him up and down for a moment, a frankly bold appraisal that left him shifting his feet again. "What precisely do you know about me, Captain?" At his frown, she raised her hand and corrected herself. "That is, about Elizabeth Swann."

"I suppose I've heard the usual stories." The typical ones of piracy and mayhem, and the entirely less credible tales of giants summoning whirlpools and drowning a thousand ships. "The antics of a common pirate."

Her lips compressed tightly and she brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Hardly _common_."

"I suppose you're referring to the Pirate King idea?" He shook his head, tapping his foot against the floor for emphasis. "Complete rubbish."

"Why is that?" She was perched on the window-ledge now, leaning forward slightly and looking at him with open curiosity. It was as entirely unladylike a pose as he could have conjured, and it took him a moment to overcome the discomfort of it and regain his thoughts.

"Pirates are hardly the sort to organize properly under a king. They live for madness and anarchy. Getting them to do anything in a sensible manner would be as impossible as...as..." He searched blindly for a proper metaphor, one hand gesturing at the air. "Quite impossible."

"You have no idea how right you are," she said earnestly, reaching out to touch his wrist. "It's the most maddening thing in the world."

He took a step back, politely removing his arm from her reach. "And really, even if it were true, she ought to be the Pirate _Queen_, would she not? Unless she's some sort of...unnatural creature."

"Everyone always gets hung up on that," she sighed, shaking her head in irritation and kicking her heels against the wall. "You must also have heard the stories of the romance with the captain of the Flying Dutchman. She can hardly be unnatural, can she, if she has a tragically doomed love story with a ghost?"

He frowned. "I believe that's the definition of unnatural, actually."

"Too right, Captain Hornblower, I concede the point." She stood up, bouncing slightly on her feet and shaking out her skirts, then offered him her hand again. "I'm afraid I must go find Amelia. It was a pleasure talking with you, Captain Hornblower. And an honor to meet you, as I said. The finest Captain in the fleet, and so on."

He brushed his lips over the back of her hand and released it, looking over toward the fireplace where two merchant captains and a Major from the army were sharing a bottle of brandy. That seemed like far more comfortable conversational turf. "I fear you must have heard greatly exaggerated stories."

"I suspected as much," she said with great solemnity. "Oh, one more question, if I may?"

"Of course."

"What is the name of your ship?"

"Hotspur," he replied promptly, unable to keep the proud smile from his lips.

"Hotspur," she echoed, nodding. "I won't forget that."

He couldn't think of any reason why a madwoman from a remote port would need to remember the name of his ship, but merely nodded politely and began to make his way toward the fireplace, pausing when she spoke again.

"Keep a sharp eye astern, Captain, until we meet again."

He turned, puzzled, to ask what she meant by that, but she was already striding off across the room. He stood and watched her go for a moment, certain his eyes must be playing tricks.

Surely that couldn't be the outline of a pistol at her waist, outlined by the fall of her dress.


End file.
